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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26389294">Molly Ringwald is Still a Bitch.</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/kingdumbass/pseuds/kingdumbass'>kingdumbass</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Supernatural</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - College/University, Anal Sex, Attempt at Humor, Bottom Castiel/Top Dean Winchester, Castiel and Dean Winchester Need to Use Their Words, Castiel and Dean Winchester are Roommates, Crushes, Dean Winchester Has a Panty Kink, F/M, Fluff and Smut, Jealous Castiel (Supernatural), M/M, Miscommunication, Misunderstandings, Mutual Pining, POV Castiel (Supernatural), Panties, Panty Kink, Power Bottom Castiel (Supernatural), Roommates, Unprotected Sex, background Dean/Lisa - Freeform, minimal angst</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-09-10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-09-10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 09:36:14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>13,871</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26389294</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/kingdumbass/pseuds/kingdumbass</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Castiel has got it bad for his college roommate Dean, but Dean would never fall for a guy like Castiel... Would he?</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Castiel &amp; Charlie Bradbury, Castiel/Dean Winchester, Lisa Braeden/Dean Winchester</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>46</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>367</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>FicFacer$ 2020, The Destiel Fan Survey Favs Collection</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Molly Ringwald is Still a Bitch.</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/Moonweaver30/gifts">Moonweaver30</a>.</li>



    </ul><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Hey, guys!  Back again with a new fic.  Written for the Fic Facers 2020 Auction, this fic is unlike my usual fare with almost no angst or heartache!  Just a decent sized helping of pining, a dash of fluff, and a side order of smut.  Hope you like it, cheesy jokes aside, and let me know what you think in the comments! Xx 😎🤙🏻🩲</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>“Guess who’s got himself a date this weekend?”  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Castiel was propped up on his bed with his nose stuffed in his Molecular Biology textbook, not sparing Dean or his smug grin even the slightest of annoyed glances.  “Hmmm. I dunno,” he boredly intoned, “the possibilities are endless.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They’d been assigned to each other at the beginning of the semester and with just one look at him, Castiel knew the guy was a conceited playboy.  He’d been resistant to the idea of even being his roommate, let alone friend, but for whatever reason, after being forced to spend the last couple months together, Castiel’s initially icy exterior reluctantly melted and he found that underneath that cocky facade, the real Dean wasn’t so bad.  He was actually kind of nice to be around when he wanted to be.  Better than his last roommate anyway.  But then there was also the matter of the exceedingly embarrassing crush Castiel had developed practically overnight; He was really hoping to take that one to the grave.  And it really didn’t help that Dean was stupidly attractive either, especially because he seemed entirely aware of the effect he had on people.  Now though, Dean was ripe from the gym, his workout clothes were sticking to him like glue, and he seemed surprisingly put-out by Castiel not pumping up his already inflated ego.  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“C’mon, Cas, I skipped the showers for this!  I thought you’d be a little more excited for me.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oh, we’re talking about </span>
  <em>
    <span>you</span>
  </em>
  <span>?  I had no idea.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Anyone ever tell you that you can be a real bitch sometimes?”  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Castiel snorted offhandedly as he flipped the page.  “Yes, actually.”  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Dean groaned and deposited his gym bag onto his bed.  Grabbing hold of the hem of his sweat-drenched t-shirt, he hoisted it over his head, balling it up, and tossed the thing over his shoulder.  It landed squarely in the center of Castiel’s face before lifelessly dropping to the floor with a splat.  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Castiel let out an overdramatic huff, scowling as Dean sang along under his breath to the rock song still dripping out of his headphones.  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Dean</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Marking his spot with his finger, Castiel regarded Dean with only slightly more of his undivided attention.  The scowl slipped and he swallowed hard as his eyes drifted and lingered on Dean’s bare torso still flushed and glistening from his workout, but he quickly diverted his attention to literally anywhere else as Dean gathered up his toiletries for the showers and turned back to face him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Dean lifted his chin in Castiel’s general direction.  “What’s up?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Your music.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Dude, it’s Asia!  Don’t tell me you dunno Asia.” At Castiel’s still-peeved face, Dean laughed.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Can you please try to be any </span>
  <em>
    <span>more</span>
  </em>
  <span> distracting?  I’m trying to study.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You’re always studying,” Dean helpfully pointed out. “Maybe you should study less and get out more.  Sow some oats.  Bang some chicks.  Or dudes, I don’t judge,” he added at Castiel’s inevitable eye roll.  “Listen, Mother Teresa, all I’m saying is, you’re only young once or whatever, might as well live a little.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Thank you for the sage advice, Dean.  I’ll remember it as I’m walking up to accept my diploma on graduation day with Latin Honors,” Castiel snarked.  “And for the record... it’s ‘dudes’.”   He wasn’t actually sure of Dean’s stance on LGBTQ+ topics, but he was sure Dean had seen his flyers for the GSA bake sale lying around his desk…</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Dean simply blinked at him. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’d prefer to bang a dude-- dudes. Plural,” he clarified awkwardly.  “No one in particular.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Dean’s face was pointedly blank, subtle blush blooming high on his cheeks.  “Right on,” he jibed eventually, tongue peeking between his teeth in a cheeky grin.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Castiel was suddenly relieved and mortified all at once.  How did he just somehow manage to convey to his unbearably straight roommate he had a preference for gay orgies?  How did Dean Winchester always seem to make him say the dumbest shit?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“But you’re not gonna find ‘em in here.  You have to actually leave the dorm every once in a while.”  He slung a clean towel over his shoulder as he headed for the door.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Right,” Castiel muttered, watching Dean’s bare back as he went.  A strange combination of emotions settled in his chest and his dick, but he refused to acknowledge either of them.  “Of course not.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Just giving you something to think about,” he offered before he left Castiel alone on his bed with his Molecular Biology textbook carefully obscuring his traitorous bulge.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>***</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>When the weekend came, Dean was preening himself in front of their floor length mirror for his date as Castiel was slumped over his desk working on a Comparative Literature essay. Castiel made it a point to turn his desk and chair away from Dean’s side of the room at the beginning of the semester to avoid, uh, distractions... But it didn’t help.  The scent of his fresh cologne was more of a distraction than the way his fingers were tugging at his hair.  His last roommate certainly wasn’t this big of a distraction, that was for sure.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>After his third attempt to focus on his homework failed, Castiel leaned back in his desk chair and groaned.  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I need coffee,” he griped, voice rough from prolonged disuse, “Like a lot of coffee.  And a nap.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You need to get laid,” Dean suggested offhandedly, not tearing his sights away from where he was carefully over-gelling his hair into neat points.  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It seemed Castiel’s initial assessment of playboy wasn’t so far off because many of Dean’s conversations orbited the topic of sexual congress like it was something new and elusive and not the oldest act on the planet.  Whatever his fascination with the topic was, Castiel found it tiresome. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He slung his arm over the back of the chair and glowered wryly at Dean from across the room.  “I hardly think sex will help me write this paper.”  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Won’t know till you try.”  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Is that your life mission or something?  To see how many orgasms it takes for you to actually be productive?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Dean pretended to consider the jab seriously, lips turning down in the corners.  “No, not really,” he said, “Still working on World Peace, but I’ve always considered myself kind of a renaissance man.”  He grinned and turned to face him then, slipping his wallet and keys into his jacket pocket.  “Sooo.. how do I look?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Castiel swivelled in his chair, arms spread, because he knew Dean, relatively speaking.  He wanted praise for something.  Castiel just wasn’t typically good at giving it.  “What would you like me to say?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You think she’ll like what she sees?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“How on Earth could I possibly know that, Dean?  I’ve never even met her.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Always so freakin’ literal,” Dean muttered loud enough for the room to hear.  He rolled his eyes and gestured at nothing.  “You know.  Do I look, uh… fuckable?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Castiel’s eyes grew three sizes.  He was glad he was out of coffee, otherwise it would’ve come shooting out of his nose.  “You’re asking me if you look ‘fuckable’.”  It was meant as a question, but that somehow got lost in translation.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Dean almost seemed like he was blushing.  Almost.  “Yeah.  Is that weird?  I mean, you’re gay, right?  Figured you’d know, nonexistant sex life aside.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Castiel shot Dean a withering glare.  “I have a sex life.  I just don’t broadcast it to the world like you do.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Your hand doesn’t count.”  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’ve had sex, Dean!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Name the last time!”  Dean raised his eyebrow in silent challenge, and Castiel was sputtering at a loss for a better argument.  “Tomayto, tomahto,” Dean said, waving him off.  “C’mon, man.  Humor me a little.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Castiel scowled, but regarded him at length, from the gelled spikes on top of his head down to the soles of his boots.  He looked just about the same as he usually did, which was to say unfairly good with minimal effort.  Meanwhile, Castiel looked like a formless blob in his ugly hand-me-down sweater and perpetual bed head, but surely Dean was fishing for more and the prolonged assessment left Dean squirming under Castiel’s gaze.  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Um,” he stammered, mouth seemingly dry.  “Y-yes.  I suppose you do.  Look... fuckable, I mean.”  He swallowed thickly, unable to meet Dean’s eye.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Awesome,” Dean breathed out in vague relief.  “Thanks, man.  I’m gonna head out -- She’s expecting me in like twenty minutes.  But, uh, Cas?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He bristled, feeling slightly irritated and willing himself not to turn an embarrassing shade of pink.  “Yes, Dean?”  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Don’t wait up,” he said with an obvious wink.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Why would I--”  But Dean was gone before he finished the thought.  Castiel scoffed to the empty room; it wasn’t like he usually did.  Not on purpose, anyway.  He stared after the still-open doorway.  With an annoyed huff, he got to his feet, closed the door, and distractedly tripped his way back to his desk, wondering how many orgasms it might take for Dean to actually clean his side of the dorm.  He didn’t get very far with that thought.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>***</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>When Castiel awoke the next morning, it was to an empty room.  He blinked hard to refocus his vision and looked to his right to see Dean’s bed was untouched from the night before.  He checked the alarm clock next to his bed and noted the time.  Just before 8am.  But it was Saturday and he didn’t have anywhere to be.  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Gathering the blankets over his head, Castiel laid there in silence for quite a while, gathering his thoughts, until eventually, the door creaked open.  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Dean stealthily slipped inside and closed it as softly as possible, tiptoeing over to his bed to reclaim it as his own.  At least he was feigning common courtesy this morning.  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>From the security of his blanket, Castiel peered over at him.  His jeans were slung low at the waist, t-shirt inside out, and his carefully sculpted hair from the night before was now suggestively askew.  Deep purple marks littered his neck and dipped below the hem of his shirt.  He was utterly debauched in all sense of the word and something in Castiel silently churned.  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It wasn’t as if he had a right to be jealous.  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>That would be ridiculous, wouldn’t it? </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Yet against all of his better judgment, he found himself feeling the small, bitter pangs of jealousy anyway.  Which was preposterous, really.  He mentally scolded himself for being the type of person to develop a crush on his straight roommate,  but here he was… a walking cliche.  A complete disaster.  And then Dean just had to go and start undressing.  He was </span>
  <em>
    <span>always</span>
  </em>
  <span> undressing.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Castiel groaned inwardly, shutting his eyes, and the sound caught Dean off-guard.  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Dean paused with his shirt half off and looked to the pathetic lump of blankets that was Castiel.  He cleared his throat before he spoke.  “You awake?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Castiel merely gave a lifeless grunt as acknowledgment.  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Dean chuckled as he shuffled through his dresser for a fresh shirt.  “Dude, when did you go to bed last night?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I dunno,” he grumbled into his pillow.  “But don’t flatter yourself.  I wasn’t waiting.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>If not waiting meant taking advantage of his time alone, he truly wasn’t waiting. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Not waiting.  Got it.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>There was a pause, a taut silence, but then Castiel’s blankets were being unceremoniously ripped from his clutches.  He growled at the abrupt flash of sunlight in his eyes and the cold air on his bare skin.  “What the fuck, Dean?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Get up, get dressed,” he ordered, “We’re goin’ to get you some of that coffee you wanted.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’m fully capable of deciding when I need coffee, thanks.”  He wasn’t about to admit he’d been dreaming about espresso before Dean walked in.  Castiel fought with the blankets, but Dean fought back harder.  “Would you stop!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You need caffeine and Vitamin D!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Castiel rolled his eyes.  “Is that another euphemism?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No, asshole.  I’m talking about the sun,” Dean argued, finally ripping the blankets free.  “Y’know, big round thing outside.  Now, c’mon.  You’re coming to the caf with me.  We’re getting breakfast.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Reluctantly, Castiel got up.  He slipped into the same oversized sweater as the night before and a pair of sunglasses as Dean righted his own appearance and off they went.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Dean spent the walk over to the cafeteria regaling Castiel with the weirdly intimate details of his night spent with the girl of the week and not so subtly humblebragging about his supposed skills, even when they got in the line for coffee.  “She came twice, man!” he claimed, even when Castiel didn’t ask.  But when he started describing something as ‘slippery’, Castiel considered that the last straw.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Clearing his throat, Castiel interrupted him.  “Dean— why are you telling me any of this?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Dean laughed and clapped a firm hand on his shoulder.  “C’mon, Cas, it’s just what guys do.  It’s guy talk.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Right.  ‘Guy talk.’  “I guess I’m not a normal ‘guy’ then.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“That’s obvious, yeah,” Dean said breezily before turning his attention to the cute girl behind the coffee counter.  He had her batting her eyelashes in mere moments and somehow came away from the encounter with free coffees for both Castiel and himself.  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“That’s how you get it done,”  Dean lauded. He sipped his hot coffee with a pleased grin and held out the other for Castiel.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Of course, Dean.  You’re very impressive,” Castiel flatly placated, taking the coffee, but he was actually lowkey impressed and his coffee tasted better for it.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Damn straight.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>To his own surprise, Castiel found the corners of his lips lifting to match.  As Dean walked on ahead, Castiel stuck behind to grab a handful of sugar packets and the girl behind the counter smiled at him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>“You guys are such a cute couple,” she said and Castiel choked on his coffee.  Before he could correct her she disappeared to the backroom.</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They found a lonely table outside to eat their breakfast and sip their coffee and maybe in some alternate timeline Castiel could pretend this was a date or something, like they were a couple that did this all the time, but as it stood, it wasn’t a date and Castiel felt pathetic just for having the notion.  He poked at his soggy cereal with his spoon as Dean bit into his bacon.  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It’s just like, I dunno, man, I think I’m actually gonna see her again.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Feigning polite interest, Castiel asked, “The girl of the week?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Dean scoffed at the phrase.  “She has a name, Cas.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I know that,” he said, “I just wasn’t sure if you knew it.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Dean rolled his eyes, but smiled all the same.  “Sure I do.  It’s Lisa.  She does yoga.  She’s very bendy,” he added with a suggestive leer and Castiel rolled his eyes right back.  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“So I’ve heard.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Anyway,” Dean segued with a smirk, eyeing him suspiciously over his bacon, “Enough about my night.  How was yours?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Castiel’s brows furrowed and his head tilted.  “What about mine?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I mean like, what do you do in there when I’m gone?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I hate to disappoint you, but I do my coursework, Dean.  I don’t lead some secretly interesting alternate life.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hey, I dunno.”  Dean shrugged.  “You’re the one with the supposed ‘sex life’.  Figured maybe you got up to something too.  Maybe one of those orgies or whatever kinky shit you’re into.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“My hand doesn’t count,” Castiel parroted, voice dripping in sarcasm.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Dude, at this rate, you’re gonna give yourself carpal tunnel if that’s true.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Castiel rolled his eyes again and ate his cereal, but he couldn’t help the reluctant smile on his face when Dean nudged his foot under the table.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>***</span>
  
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Not even a week later, Castiel had come back from a very tiresome double lecture after lunch, fretting over all the work he still had left to do before his evening class, only to be puzzled when he came to a stop outside of his dorm room and found one of Dean’s dirty gym socks hanging off the door handle again.  Castiel deliberated with himself on whether or not he should knock or intrude or turn around.  Embarrassed, he trudged off to the library when he got the hint by the muffled sounds of moaning on the other side of the door.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Blame it on the fact Castiel was an only child, but he must have missed the memo on secret codes.  This code, however, seemed to become more of an increasingly annoying habit.  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And maybe Dean didn’t realize that Castiel kept hanging out in the library just to avoid facing him after.  Or maybe he just didn’t care that they were interrupting Castiel’s schedule, but he was feeling fed up and he didn’t know what to do about it.  He was willing to put up with it, just for the fact that Dean seemed content fucking instead of eating lunch or doing his coursework, but when he found himself in the dormitory basement sorting through his laundry, the last straw came in the form of a skimpy pair of pink, satin panties.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>This wasn’t the first time either.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>With a long huff, he stuffed all his freshly laundered clothes back into the hamper, balling the panties up in his fist.  He marched up multiple flights of stairs, fuming the whole way, stormed down the long hallway towards their dorm, purposely ignoring the sock, but when he abruptly entered the room, Dean was laid out on his bed shirtless, brazenly looking at a pornographic magazine with one hand tucked into the front of his undone jeans, his lower lip caught between his teeth.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Fuck!  What the hell, Cas!” Dean blustered, righting himself and tearing his hand out of his pants.  In a flash, he stashed the porn under his pillow before Castiel could catch a glimpse and his face turned a deep shade of scarlet, but instead of the anticipated anger, he was more embarrassed than anything.  “Don’t you know what a friggin’ sock on the door means?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Castiel stood frozen in the doorway.  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The thought of Dean jerking off a mere few feet from him was the weird stuff of his nightly self-loathsome dreams, let alone seeing it in person.  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And Dean </span>
  <em>
    <span>definitely</span>
  </em>
  <span> looked good like this.  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>All the heat Castiel had felt seconds ago was quickly shifting south and he couldn’t even remember what had made him so angry in the first place.  Desperately, he clenched his fist and then it occurred to him all over again.  At least this time, unlike the last, Dean didn’t have company.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I found your girlfriend’s underwear in my laundry again,” Castiel stated bluntly towards the floor.  He tossed the pair of pink, satin panties in Dean’s general direction who caught them between his fingers.  Dean stared at them in a peculiar way and swallowed.  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Uh, shit,” Dean stammered.  “Sorry, man.  Won’t happen again.  Promise.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Somehow, though, Castiel didn’t believe him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>***</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I do not have a crush on Dean!”  Castiel ignored his friend Charlie’s knowing smile in favor of setting up their table at the bake sale.  “He’s my roommate and if anything he’s more of a nuisance than anything else.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Uh huh,” Charlie said, but she wasn’t buying it for a second.  Castiel couldn’t really blame her, he wasn’t buying it either.  “You know, it’s totally fine to have a crush, Cas.  It’s not the end of the world.  Even if he is straight— which you have no evidence of by the way because you’ve never asked him!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Trust me, I don’t need evidence.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Whatever you say, loverboy.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Castiel bristled and deflated.  “I don’t have a crush,” he still maintained, even as he plated up more rainbow and unicorn cookies.  “We’re just... friends.  Sort of.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Charlie raised her eyebrows and snorted.  “Sort of?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I don’t know!”  Castiel groaned.  “He’s always leaving his sweaty gym clothes on the floor, he never lets me study, I’ve been barred from my own dorm room more than once without any moment's notice, when he’s not fucking girls he’s talking about it, I’ve found women’s panties in my laundry at least twice now, and I genuinely can’t stand him half the time, but he’s just very... distracting.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Sounds kind of like a crush to me, but what do I know?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I walked in on him jerking off the other day,” Castiel unceremoniously confessed, because truth be told it was the only thing he’d been thinking about for the last week, only for Charlie to burst into barely contained laughter at his expense.  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Castiel scowled at her out the corner of his eye, but then as if on cue, Dean appeared across the green, all smiles and freckles in the sun.  His black t-shirt was clinging to him as usual and his sunglasses made him seem effortlessly cool.  He was headed their way with a girl Castiel didn’t recognize trailing behind him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Speak of the devil,” Castiel muttered at the sight of him, looking like some fashion model in the midday sun.  Before he knew it, Dean was towering over their table, casting shadows.  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hey, Cas.  Funny seeing you outside,” Dean greeted with a wide, toothy grin and an obnoxious knuckle tap to the wobbly table.   Even his perfect teeth were distracting.  Castiel refused to look at him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You’re hilarious, Dean,” he deadpanned.  He pointedly counted the money in their till instead.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I like the rainbows,” Dean added, gesturing to the face paint on Castiel’s cheeks.  “Very cute.  Downright adorable, even.  You look like a goddamn Care Bear.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Castiel willed himself not to blush even harder in front of Charlie just so she wouldn’t use it against him later on.  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Thank you,” Charlie supplied for him with a bright smile.  “I painted them on him myself!”  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Nice work.”  He grinned and gestured to the girl behind him.  “Hey, Cas, this is the girl I’ve been seeing.  Lisa, this is Cas, my roommate.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It’s great to finally meet you, Cas,” Lisa said with a friendly smile.  “Dean’s told me a lot about you!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She was nice and pretty and had long, dark hair. Castiel hated that.  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Really?  That’s interesting.  He hasn’t told me anything about you.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Charlie elbowed Castiel in the side when Dean and Lisa exchanged confused looks.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What?” he practically hissed under his breath and Charlie mouthed back what looked like “Don’t be such a bitch.”  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He sighed and put the till box back on the table.  He raised his hand over his eyes and squinted up at Dean from his folding chair, whose attention was once again directed towards this random girl named Lisa.  When Dean laughed at something she said and reached out to playfully mess the top of her head, Castiel silently seethed.  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What did you want, Dean?”  He snapped.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Whoa.  Can’t a guy support the, uh…” He searched the table for a flyer and read it, eyebrows twisting, “The Gay-Straight Alliance?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yes, a guy can.  Is that why you’re here?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Dean scoffed.  “Course that’s why I’m here.”  More obviously, he was eyeing the unicorn cookies on the plate between them.  “How much for the unicorn?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“However much you want to donate.”  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Five dollar minimum,” Charlie helpfully chirped.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Five bucks!  Yeesh.  Better be a good friggin’ cookie for five bucks.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“They’re the best because they were baked with </span>
  <em>
    <span>gay love</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” she sing-songed.  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Dean chuckled, pulling out a ten.  “Yeah, I’ll buy that.”  He handed her the cash and picked up one of each.  Putting the unicorn in his mouth, he handed the rainbow cookie across the table to Charlie and smiled around his mouthful.  He jerked his head towards Castiel who was presently slumped over in his chair looking grumpy as hell.  “For Grumpy Bear over there if he wants it,” he said with a wink.  “Catch you guys later.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>As soon as Dean was out of their line of vision, Charlie’s sights were on Castiel who very reluctantly took the cookie from her.  They were pretty good, afterall.  He forced himself not to smile as he ate it, but it didn’t really work.  Not completely.  He hated himself just a little bit more for it as he watched Dean walk away with what’s-her-face while she asked him something like, “What was up with him?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It was a good question.  Castiel was asking himself the same thing.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yeah,” Charlie said placatingly, patting Castiel on the shoulder, “You don’t have a crush at all.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>***</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It was another weeknight when Castiel found himself alone, as usual, in their dorm room and in some bizarre turn of events, he finished his reading earlier than anticipated.  He decided to spend the rest of the evening relaxing for once so he opted to make himself some tea and crawl into bed with his laptop.  The cafeteria was long closed by now, but if he didn’t think too hard about the ache in his empty stomach then it wasn’t so bad.  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Though, the longer he laid there trying to distract himself from the dinner he never ate, the more it occurred to him how long he’d been neglecting his sexual appetite too.  It wasn’t like he was abstaining specifically because of Dean’s teasing.  It was more like, ever since meeting Dean, his mind inevitably wandered to his side of the room and seeing him touching himself the other night didn’t help matters any, only now he felt like he was crossing some invisible boundary.  It was normal to have a crush— that was what Charlie kept telling him anyway— but was it normal to jerk off thinking about your friend?  Probably not.  And yet, Castiel hovered between distractedly watching Netflix and an empty browser window daring him to go down the darker path.  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Setting his half-drunk tea down on the nightstand, Castiel slipped his warm hand down the front of his boxers and cupped himself with a relieved sigh.  These days it seemed as though Dean was never around; he figured he had all night.  He palmed himself loosely as he browsed, but nothing was catching his interest, he just didn’t want to contemplate on the ‘why’.  Laying there with his dick in his hand, his eyes inevitably wandered to Dean’s side of the room, and his mind wandered with it, supplying him with the image of Dean straining against the confines of a pair of small, pink, satin panties.  The thought surprised him, but it was a good path if his laboured breathing was any indication.  Yet as if by some demented sense of cosmic karma, the sound of the door being unlocked had him rushing to close the porn tab and switching back to his sappy rom-com with lightning speed.  When Dean waltzed in moments later, he was none the wiser.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Dean,” Castiel found himself saying, rather breathlessly if he had to admit it.  “I thought you were at the bar.  Why are you here?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, I was…”  A curious smile twisted Dean’s lips as he eyed Castiel suspiciously from across the room.  “I dunno if you know this, Cas, but I, uh, live here too.  Hello to you too, by the way.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hello, Dean.”  Castiel rolled his eyes.  “And that’s not what I meant.  I just wasn’t expecting you back tonight.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, well I realized I’ve been ‘preoccupied’ lately so I decided tonight I wanted to spend some time with my buddy instead.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Castiel’s brows furrowed.  “Your buddy?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Dean rolled his eyes harder.  “You, numbnuts.”  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oh.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Got you this from the caf earlier, by the way,” he added, holding out a bag of pork rinds, somehow just knowing Castiel had forgotten to eat.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Castiel murmured a thank you, but didn’t get up to retrieve it, despite it being one of his favorite snacks. Dean tossed it to him instead. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Still suspicious, Dean set his other things down at the end of his bed and slipped his shoes off, eyes flitting between Castiel’s and his precariously perched laptop, but the peculiar smirk didn’t leave, if anything it only grew wider.  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Thoroughly amused, Dean asked, “Wait a minute here, did I interrupt something?”  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Castiel knew he was blushing, but he had too much pride to admit it.  Instead, he simply replied, “No.  I was watching a movie.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“A movie, huh.”  Call him crazy, but Dean didn’t sound convinced.  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yes.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What’s this movie called?  Dawson’s Crack?  Saving Ryan’s Privates?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What?  No!  It’s—”  Castiel’s eyes flicked to the screen and he had to weigh whether or not admitting he was masturbating or watching this cheesy 80s rom-com alone was more embarrassing.  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Pretty in Pink,” he finally admitted, but he regretted it immediately because as it turned out, this was one of Dean’s favorite movies, and if Castiel had felt shameful enough imagining Dean in pink panties while he touched himself, the shame he felt now as he sported a not so subtle erection in front of him only made it worse.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Fuck yeah, love me some Molly Ringwald.  Push over,” Dean said, hovering at the edge of Castiel’s mattress.  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What?  Why?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And then for some reason unknown to man, he started to undo his fly.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Dean!  What are you doing?”  Castiel squawked.   </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What’s it look like?  I wanna watch it too.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Okay, but why are you taking off your pants?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Cuz it’s more comfortable?” He laughed, casually stepping out of his jeans.  “Dude, why are you being so weird?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’m always weird,” Castiel murmured.  It was a fault of which Castiel was constantly reminded.  Now, especially.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Dean snorted and shook his head.  “Just move over, dude.  I don’t bite.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Fine.”  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Reluctantly, Castiel pinned himself against the wall and attempted to use the laptop to obscure himself further.  Dean made himself comfortable almost immediately, snuggling himself deeper under the comforter.  Turning himself on his side to face Castiel, Dean grinned, and there was a moment, however brief and intangible, that their eyes locked together, Dean’s curious and open, Castiel’s nervous and wide.  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>In the moment, so close together, time felt suspended. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Without even thinking, Castiel found himself speaking.  “Did you really come here to hang out with me?”  His throat felt rough and thick and it bobbed as he swallowed desperately for moisture.  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>If Dean knew what was happening, he didn’t let it bother him.  He simply rolled his eyes again in fond exasperation, and said “Yeah, I did.  Don’t tell anyone, but sometimes I actually like you.  Sue me.”  He reached over and hit the play button in Castiel’s lap and it took all the willpower Castiel had left for him to keep his eyes trained on the screen.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Though, when the movie ended, Castiel couldn’t help feeling like the Duckie to Dean’s Andie and thinking that Molly Ringwald was actually kind of a bitch.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>***</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I have a crush on Dean.” Castiel accepted his defeat in a pitiful rush of breath.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He was promptly shushed by a stranger studying at the other end of their research table. Castiel blushed and mouthed an awkward apology, gluing his eyes promptly back to the pages of some boring volume on metastasis to avoid the weight of Charlie’s triumphant grin.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Tell me everything,” she demanded in a hushed squeal, slapping his arm from across the oak table. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Castiel winced, withdrawing his arm from out of reach.  “There’s nothing to tell.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Don’t lie to me, Novak. Spill!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Fine.”  With a dramatic huff, Castiel closed his book. He wasn’t getting anything done anyway, not with his mind preoccupied with other frivolous matters. “We were watching something in my bed the other night and, I dunno, I guess I thought we were having a ‘moment,’ but nothing actually </span>
  <em>
    <span>happened</span>
  </em>
  <span>.  I think it was just wishful thinking on my part.”  That seemed like a far more rational explanation than the two of them sharing some kind of mutual hallucination. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“A mome—”  Charlie clasped her hands tightly over her mouth to trap the sound in when the guy at the end of the table glared at them again. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Castiel rolled his eyes at the excitement gushing out of her regardless. It wasn’t as though admitting his silly crush changed anything. Dean was still straight. He was still dating Lisa. Castiel was still utterly and irrevocably hopeless.  “It’s not that big of a deal, Charlie.  I just need to get over it,” he tried to reason, but of course, reason was never going to work here.  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What! No way!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>With the guy’s temper across the table quickly mounting, Castiel stood from the table and deposited his books onto a nearby cart.  Charlie quickly followed suit, haphazardly collecting all her things to chase after him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hold up, loverboy!”  Once they were cleared of the library exit, she breathlessly exclaimed, “You need to tell him how you feel!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Why, so I can make every already-awkward moment from now until graduation a living, breathing nightmare?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Because he could feel the same way!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“That seems highly unlikely.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You never know!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Exasperated, Castiel snorted and shook his head, stopping for a moment on the sidewalk to grant her shorter legs some reprieve.  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Charlie,” he sighed, “People like Dean Winchester don’t like people like me.  In case you haven’t noticed, I’m a boring nerd that spends all his time in his dorm room.  And more importantly, I have a penis.  That might be a dealbreaker.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You don’t know till you try.  Maybe it’s an okay penis,” she offered with an unsure shrug.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“An okay penis,” Castiel recited in monotone.  “It’s more than okay,” he muttered back, but Charlie waved him off.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Not the point.  But, maybe Dean’s right!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I won’t tell him you said that; His ego is big enough as it is.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You need to start putting yourself out there more!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Shaking his head, Castiel huffed.  “I can’t discuss this anymore.  I need to go finish a paper.”  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Just tell him how you feel, Cas!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>With a roiling groan, Castiel turned and stalked away towards the dormitories only to find, once he approached their dorm room, the telltale sock still affixed to the doorknob and the sound of two intermingled voices.  Any question he had about any laughable ‘moment’ was obliterated by that one dirty gym sock.  He hadn’t realized how much he was leaning on that ‘moment’ until it was yanked out from under him. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Begrudgingly, he settled in the student lounge down the hall to continue on with his coursework, ignoring the jealous monster eating away at him.  Yet still, even with the mental images of Dean and Lisa springing unbidden in his mind, the unsolicited advice to just tell Dean how he felt was wearing away at his resolve to take this whole embarrassing debacle to the grave.  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>What harm could it do, Castiel petulantly argued with himself, and after tossing and turning it over in his mind, the answer he came back with was A Lot. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>***</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Dean, I want to go out with you,” Castiel found himself saying a couple weeks later.  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He was awkwardly standing in the middle of their room, wringing his hands and watching as Dean gelled up his hair for the hundredth time.  Apparently, Dean and friends were going out to the bar to forget about their upcoming tests before Thanksgiving break and normally Castiel would be holed up in their dorm room studying his ass off, but this time was different.  This time he felt like he had something to prove.   </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Dean’s fingers paused idly in his hair.  He blinked a few times before turning to fully look at Castiel in utter disbelief.  “Excuse me, what?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Maybe what everyone kept saying was getting to him a little bit and instead of potentially ruining whatever close bond he and Dean seemed to have formed lately, Castiel opted for the tried and true method of ‘If you can’t beat them, join them.’  It seemed like the perfect solution a few minutes ago, at least until Castiel realized what he just said. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I don’t feel like studying tonight,” he hastily clarified.  “I’d like to come with you to the bar.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oh.”  Dean considered this.  “I’m sorry, we </span>
  <em>
    <span>are</span>
  </em>
  <span> talking about Castiel Novak here, right?  The same guy who jerks off to Comparative Literature?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“That’s not what I said.  I said Kurt Vonnegut was attractive when he was younger and I was running on three hours of sleep when I said it, so if you would please stop mentioning it, I would greatly appreciate it.”  The laugh Dean was trying to contain escaped anyway and Castiel rolled his eyes, not giving Dean the luxury of being amused.  With pursed lips, he retorted, “I was hoping to have some fun, ‘sow some oats’, as you keep insisting I do, but if you’re going to be a dick about it, I’ve changed my mind.”  He promptly sank into his desk chair and turned his laptop on, regretting having said anything and ignoring the way Dean snickered at his sudden attitude shift.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“C’mon, Cas. I’m just teasing you, man!  Please, don’t turn into a bitch over it.”  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>When Castiel wouldn’t give him the time of day, Dean came up behind him and spun his desk chair around and bent down to eye level.  “Cas-ti-elll,” he playfully taunted, though Castiel couldn’t help but notice how strikingly green his eyes were from this close.  He smelled like a heady combination leather and cologne.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Yet at Castiel’s persistently pissy face, Dean smiled.  “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Please</span>
  </em>
  <span> come out with me tonight,” he mockingly begged.  “I think you’re awesome, weird kinks aside.  And I mean that, from the bottom of my heart.”  He laid a hand to his heart to prove it.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I don’t have ‘weird’ kinks,” Castiel grouched.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hey, you don’t gotta defend it, I ain’t judging.  I got some pretty weird kinks myself,” countered Dean with a casual shrug.  “But I mean it, man. Course you can come.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Suddenly, Castiel’s mouth went dry.  “Thank you,” he managed to say, “I’d like that.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Good.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I still don’t have weird kinks,” he muttered.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“We should change that.”  Dean broke out into a full grin and winked.  It did nothing to unnerve him.  “You know,” he continued, “for what it’s worth, I’ve actually been dyin’ for the opportunity to take you out for at least a month or two now.”  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The corner of Castiel’s lips twitched and he bit back a smile, but something in the air between them felt oddly charged and Dean seemed suddenly aware of it too.  Dean’s gaze trailed down to Castiel’s lips, and further to his throat as Castiel gulped, and further still, until it settled on the ugly, oversized sweater Castiel was donning once more.   </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Castiel wasn’t sure if it was all in his head or not until Dean plucked at the sweater with a light grimace and said, “You really gonna wear this thing out to the bar, though?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>***</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The street lamps lit the way as the gravel crunched under their shoes.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I think you’ll like my friends,” Dean said eventually, walking step for step with Castiel on the sidewalk.   “Well, some of them, anyway.  You’ve already met Lisa,” he added with a small smile.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Lisa. </span>
  </em>
  
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>His distaste for her over these last few weeks grew exponentially the more often he heard her name.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yes,” he conceded, “I’ve definitely met her.”  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Before they’d left the dorm room together, Dean managed to convince Castiel to change into one of his jackets and a t-shirt that was what Castiel considered a size too small.  A blue one.  It brought out his eyes, or so Dean had said, which was just another thing that Castiel forced himself to ignore about his roommate.  Right now though, he couldn’t really ignore the way his stomach was fluttering with the impish way Dean was smiling over at him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Dean was sizing him up, hands in his pockets, and it did nothing to make Castiel not blush.  Suddenly, Dean’s arm playfully wrapped around his neck and his stomach fell to his feet.  “I bet you’re a fun drunk, Cas.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What makes you say that?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“The grumpy ones always are,” he reasoned.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Castiel scoffed.  “I am </span>
  <em>
    <span>not </span>
  </em>
  <span>grumpy.”  Wordlessly, Dean raised an eyebrow and Castiel rolled his eyes.  “Truthfully I’ve never gotten drunk before, so I wouldn’t know,” he admitted, staring at the ground.  He could feel Dean’s face light up without even having to see it.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Holy shit!”  With wide eyes, Dean stopped in his tracks and Castiel stopped with him.  “You’re letting me take your drinking virginity!?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It’s not a big deal.”  That blush spread to the tips of Castiel’s ears down to his toes.  “Though, when you put it like that, it certainly sounds a lot more momentous.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Well, don’t you worry.  These dumb bars can get kind of rowdy, but I won’t abandon you.  I got you, man.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“My hero,” Castiel intoned.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Dean shook his head and quietly laughed to himself over the whole thing as Castiel trudged on ahead.  Dean caught up to him though, in a few long strides.  “Hey, can I ask you somethin’?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I suppose...” he said, albeit with an abundance of caution.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’ve been wonderin’, why do you wear that ugly sweater so much?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Castiel narrowed his eyes and craned his neck.  “Because it’s comfortable,” he stated bluntly.  “And it was my father’s.  Why?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Dean nodded as if that explained everything.  Dean knew about his father.  It was one of the first things they’d really connected over.  Absent dads and all that.  Still, he didn’t look convinced. “No reason,” he said, “Just, you look good under there, is all.” He clapped Castiel hard on the chest then as they approached the door, but Castiel was stuck like gum on the sidewalk.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Inside, the bar was crowded as promised.  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Dean led the way through the swarm of bodies towards the back corner of the bar where his friends had already started their first round.  They were talking rather animatedly about which celebrity would win in a fight when the two of them approached.  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“As usual, my money’s on Swayze,” Dean interjected.  His presence was met with cheers and exclamation as he rounded a stool to greet Lisa with a peck on the cheek.  “Hey guys,” he said over the noise, tugging on Castiel’s sleeve.  “This is my buddy, Cas.  He’s a little shy, so don’t be assholes.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Over the top of her drink, Lisa’s eyes were trained suspiciously on Castiel.  Castiel waved awkwardly before she looked away and soon they all delved back into conversation while he sat on the outskirts. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What’s he doing here?”  He heard Lisa mutter to Dean.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“He’s my friend,” Dean defended and at least there was that.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Dean’s friends weren’t so bad, although early on it became apparent that Castiel and Benny, he believed his name was, were set to butt heads on just about everything.  And as much as it pained him to admit it, Lisa, for lack of a better word, was okay, despite her clear distaste for him.  He could see why someone like Dean might like her, even if he didn’t himself. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Castiel sat at the bar nursing a warm beer during the lulls in conversation, until everyone decided to start in on the harder stuff.  It wasn’t like he was an expert or anything on the matter, but he didn’t think that was the wisest idea.  Not wanting to be a buzzkill though, Castiel accepted his first shot with about as much grace and enthusiasm as could be imagined, which was to say not very much at all.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They got a lot easier after the first one.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“SHOT FOR SHOT!”  That was what this game was called.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Castiel was on his fifth shot of cheap tequila now.  He wasn’t sure who kept calling it, he just knew when they did he had to take another.  Hastily, he threw it back and gagged as it burned his tongue and throat and reached for the nearest lime, sucking like his life depended on it.  When it was wrung dry, he tossed the rind to the sticky floor and laughed. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He wasn’t sure what he thought being drunk would feel like, but he was unsteady on his feet and he really had to piss.  Instead he just closed his eyes and sat down at the closest available stool.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mindlessly, he leaned into the warm body next to him and let out an uncontrollable hiccup.  “Can I tell you something, Dean?  I’ve had the </span>
  <em>
    <span>hugest</span>
  </em>
  <span> crush on you all semester.  It’s really -hic- not fair -cup- that you’re straight.“</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The warm body beside him laughed deeply and asked, “Who’s Dean?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Castiel blinked hard and really looked at them.  Brown eyes, brown hair.  He shook his head like an Etch-a-sketch when he realized the person supporting all of his weight wasn’t in fact Dean or any of his friends, but a virtual stranger.  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Dean…”  Castiel wracked his brain trying to formulate a coherent thought.  “Dean’s my roommate,” he shouted back to the guy over the loud music. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yeah?  You come here with him?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Frantically, he searched the room for any sign of his roommate or any member of Dean’s group of friends for that matter.  He couldn’t see them.  He might be on the wrong side of the bar.  But then again, his vision was starting to swim.  His body was warm though, and the broad hand now laid out on the small of his back was reassuring.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No, not like that,” Castiel lamented, “He’s straight!”  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“So I gathered.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>What had felt like only moments before, Dean had been glued to his side just as he’d promised.  His friends were bantering about something?  He honestly couldn’t remember what they were even talking about because he’d mostly been focused on analyzing the way Lisa was glaring at him.  The moments between shot one and shot five were indistinguishable.  Surely Dean wouldn’t just up and leave Castiel utterly alone at this random college bar...  But then again, why wouldn’t he?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Sorry.  This is my first time with tequila,” he admitted with a giggle.  “Don’t listen to me.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What about you?”  The guy raised his eyebrows, signalling for Castiel to fill in the blanks, meanwhile his gaze roved lower to appraise Castiel in his one-size-too-small t-shirt.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What about me?” he asked, still half-distracted in his search.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Are you straight?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Castiel let out an obnoxious snort.  “God, no!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Me neither,” the stranger smiled back.  “Hey, you wouldn’t want to get out of here, would you?  You’re honestly the hottest guy I’ve seen here all night.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>For a minute, Castiel remembered his goal tonight was to ‘sow some oats,’ but right now, five shots in, he didn’t think he could keep it up if his life depended on it.  He shook his head.  “No, I shouldn’t.  I have to find Dean.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I bet I could make you forget all about him,” the guy countered in an obviously suggestive way.  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Suddenly, a strong hand gripped Castiel by the elbow.  It was Dean’s and he was putting himself ever so slightly between Castiel and the stranger at the bar.  “He said ‘no’, dude.  Let it go.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oh my god, Dean’s here,” Castiel grinned belatedly, setting down his half-drunk beer.  “Hi, Dean!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Heya, Cas.”  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Abruptly, Castiel wrapped his arms around Dean’s waist in an awkward hug.  “I missed you,” he mumbled into Dean’s stomach.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oookay,” he whistled, “Someone’s drunk.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Only -hic- a little.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Sorry, man, just had to use the boy’s room,” Dean explained, but it was stilted.  He smiled to placate Castiel, but it didn’t reach his eyes.  His eyes were too busy shooting daggers to the guy currently sizing him up like prey.  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The guy at the bar snorted into his drink.  “So you’re the roommate.  You’re cute, I’ll give you that much.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, thanks.  You must be the guy who can’t take a hint.”  Turning his attention to Castiel, he lightly asked, “What d’ya say, Molly Ringwald, you ready to leave the party yet?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’m not Molly Ringwald.  You are,” Castiel slurred, poking Dean square in the chest.  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Dean chuckled.  “Oh yeah?  Why’s that?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Because I’m a nerd,” he lamented, “And I’m gonna die alone with weird shoes because you like appliances.”  Before Dean could respond to that, Castiel shot up from his stool.  “Dean, I don’t think I like tequila,” he said with growing urgency, “I think I’m gonna throw up.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hey, hey.  Cas, look at me.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>That task proved more difficult than it should’ve been.  Castiel blinked hard and willed the floor to stop moving before he looked up.  When he did, Dean did his best at a reassuring smile.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You’re gonna be alright, man.  Let’s go home.”  Carefully, Dean shifted Castiel so that he was bearing his weight for the inevitably unsteady walk back to the dorms. Castiel took the opportunity to rest his spinning head on Dean’s shoulder.  “I got you,” Dean cooed into the mess of hair on top of Castiel’s head.  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, trust me, I’m not the one who can’t take a hint, sweetie,” the guy scoffed just as they turned to leave.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Dean stopped before he even really started.  “And just what the fuck’s that supposed to mean?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You don’t look very straight to me.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Ah well, that’s a relief then, cuz I’m not.”  Wryly, Dean smiled back at him, but before they could disappear into the crowd, Castiel violently puked down the length of Dean’s front.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>***</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>As anticipated, the walk back was long due to the number of times Castiel stopped to puke along the way and, to his credit, Dean never left his side the whole time.  Even when they stumbled through the door of their dorm room almost an hour later, smelling like Castiel’s drying vomit.  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Gingerly, Dean eased him down onto the edge of his bed and promptly snatched an empty bottle from Castiel’s desk.  “Don’t move,” he ordered before he disappeared down the hallway.  But Castiel didn’t have it in him to move anyway.  Not with Dean’s words still spiralling around in his head.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Dean’s not straight.</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Drink this,” Dean’s voice interrupted his drunken tailspin.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Suddenly, Dean appeared in front of him again, forcing him to sit up and drink the tepid dormitory tap water from the bottle.  Castiel did, albeit with a grimace; it was no small feat when everything that went down felt like it was threatening to come right back up.  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>He still doesn’t want you.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’m sorry, Dean,” Castiel managed between a few experimental gulps.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“For what?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I- I puked on you,” he slurred, water dripping down his chin, as he leveled the gross stain smeared down Dean’s shirt.  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Dean let out a short laugh.  “Yeah, you did.  Thanks for that one.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“And for hating Lisa.  You like her.  I didn’t mean to ruin your night.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You didn’t,” he said, “I wanted to leave anyway.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You’re lying.  It’s okay to be angry.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’m not angry, man.  Don’t worry about me.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Castiel clumsily shook his head, but it made the vertigo worse.  “You hardly spoke to me on the walk home.  I think you are.”  After barely a moment of silence, he sputtered, “Why don’t you like me?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>But Dean didn’t justify the question with an answer.  Instead he shook his head right back and sighed.  “Know what I think?  I think you’re drunk, Cas.  Drink your water, you’ll be okay.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Shamefully, Castiel sat in their shared, strained silence, drinking his water, while Dean peeled out his puke-covered clothing.  He tossed them in the hamper by the door and scrounged around his dresser for a clean shirt.  He left again to brush his teeth and when he came back he offered Castiel two Ibuprofen, which Castiel reluctantly took.  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’m gonna call it a night.  Don’t sleep on your back,” Dean said, returning to his side of the room.  Turning the light switch out, Dean collapsed onto his own bed, leaving Castiel to blankly stare at Dean’s side of the room through the darkness.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Night, Cas,” Dean murmured into his pillow, before drifting off to sleep.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Goodnight, Dean,” Castiel mumbled back.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>***</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The afternoon sun streaming through the curtains caused Castiel to stir.  He’d been dead to the world for so long it was almost lunchtime when he cracked an eye open and caught a glimpse of his alarm clock.  He felt like hammered shit and smelled even worse.  He fell limply back on the bed and groaned.  When he thought of all the time he wasted not studying for his upcoming tests, he felt like he was going to puke all over again. What was more, he awoke to an empty dorm.  Dean had been long gone by the looks of it, his bed was a poor attempt in being made, anyway.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Castiel dragged himself up slowly, rubbing the sleep from his still-hazy vision.  It took him a few minutes to notice the ibuprofen and full water bottle placed on his nearby desk with a note that simply read ‘TAKE ME’ in Dean’s messy scrawl.  Smiling weakly to himself, he did as he was told.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>His recollection of the previous night’s events was fuzzy at best, but he remembered the end.  Mostly.  He remembered Dean being angry with him and he really couldn’t blame him for that.  Afterall, he did puke on him.  He deliberated over an apology that he ultimately didn’t send and picked up his study materials instead in a valiant attempt at being productive, but it was next to impossible to concentrate on anything when he was almost positive Dean was upset with him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Not knowing how to rectify the situation or when Dean would return to the dorm room, Castiel decided that maybe a nice gesture would put him in Dean’s good graces for whatever stupid things he’d said or done while under the influence, so he set about trying to clean their shared space.  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Firstly, he got rid of all of the garbage collecting on what seemed like every surface; as it turned out Dean could eat a lot.  And then he went about trying to organize the tops of their desks, as if Dean spent any real time sat down at his, but it was the thought that counted, or at least that was what Castiel was telling himself.  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Next, he made his own bed then he plodded over to Dean’s after to make it properly.  He straightened out the sheets, tucked the comforter back into the foot of the bed, and then reached for the pillows to fluff them up too.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He collected all of Dean’s clothing around the room and added them to the hamper in the corner, still reeking of his day old puke.  His nose scrunched at the aroma and, reaching for the bag of quarters on his desk, he headed down to the basement level to set about doing Dean’s laundry for him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The laundry room was busier than he was expecting before he remembered it was the Saturday before Thanksgiving break.  Somehow, he found a spare machine and dumped the clothes in quickly to avoid the stench.  Glancing down at himself it was then he realized he was still in Dean’s t-shirt, so he stripped that off and tossed it in with the rest.  After inserting a few quarters, he slumped down against the wall and waited with his head in his hands.  He was still hungry.  Starving, in fact.  But the thought of eating anything made him nauseated.  Without having a clear memory of the night, he still felt as though he’d done something wrong and with the way Lisa had been glaring at him for most it, he concluded maybe it was just his presence.  He couldn’t blame her for that either.  He’d been rude to her before, afterall. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Time passed slowly while he waited, but instead of beating himself up about it, Castiel chose to doze off as Dean’s laundry dried.  He was woken up by a tap to the foot by some stranger waiting to take over the machine.  With a mumbled apology, Castiel pulled himself to his feet and collected Dean’s clothes, dragging the hamper all the way back up to their floor.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He set about folding, stacking the clothes into neat and sorted piles on the end of Dean’s bed, when towards the bottom, he picked up a set of green, cotton panties.  Initially, he rolled his eyes, wondering why on Earth Lisa could never quite seem to remember to take these things with her, but then he spotted another pair.  A red pair.  And then another.  These ones, black.  Castiel left them in a heap on the bed, not wanting to trifle with her panties more than he already had.  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Just as he placed the last shirt on top of the pile, the door opened and Dean came in with a rather despondent look on his face.  This changed then to something guarded when his eyes danced around the clean room.  They landed on Castiel then, stood shirtless in the center of the room with his hands awkwardly fumbling for a place on his hips, with an anxious look about him.  Dean’s eyes lingered on his bare chest.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hello, Dean,” Castiel greeted then, even more awkwardly.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Dean blinked at him as the words caught up to him.  He cleared his throat.  “Hey, Cas,” he said, holding up a greasy brown paper bag.  “Brought you back some food from the caf.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The scent wafted across the room and hit Castiel like a suckerpunch to the gut.  Any other day and he’d kill for one, but today the grease curdled his stomach.  “Is that a cheeseburger?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yeah… I thought they were your favorite.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“They are, but I think if I eat one right now I’m going to regret it.”  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Dean fiddled absently with the bag.  “Yeah, no, that makes sense.  Wasn’t really thinkin’ straight.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Maybe I can eat it later,” Castiel said, taking the bag.  “Thank you, though.”  He knew Dean was upset he just didn’t know why.  He’d expected this, he just never quite figured out what to say yet, but before he said anything Dean sighed.  “Dean, what’s wrong?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Dean dimly laughed; it wasn’t his usual.  “Nothin’, just, uh, Lisa dumped me at the bar last night.  Just met up with her to talk.”  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’m sorry.  I don’t remember much from last night, but I should’ve been there for you instead of what actually happened,” Castiel winced, feeling a little more than slightly guilty.  “Are you alright?”  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Dean waved him off. “Not even sure if she was really my girlfriend, now that I think about it.  I never asked.  But yeah, we’re good.  We agreed to stay friends.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oh.  Well, that’s good, at least.  That should make returning all her panties easier then.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Perplexed, Dean raised an eyebrow in question.  “Uh, what?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I cleaned,” Castiel explained weakly, with a vague hand gesture to the laundry he’d just finished folding.  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Dean’s face was indecipherably neutral, but his clenched jaw spoke volumes.  With a measured gulp, he said, “You did my laundry.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yes.  I cleaned your desk and made the bed too.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You made the bed too,” Dean echoed distantly.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I didn’t know how to apologize for, um, ruining your night.  Though, I guess I wasn’t the only one,” he said, trying for light.  Castiel bit his lip and followed Dean’s eyeline to the stack of laundry.  No, they were just beyond that, boring a hole into the mattress where the panties laid twisted together in a pile.  “I’m sorry,” he started, “I didn’t think you’d want me to touch your girlfriend’s underwear.  Well, not girlfriend... you know what I mean.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Did you see it?”  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A crease formed between Castiel’s brows, and his head began to tilt out of confusion, but Dean shook his head before Castiel even said a word.  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Don’t you do the head thing,” he chided, “You know what I’m talking about.”  At Castiel’s blank face, Dean marched over to his bed, tearing at the bedding.  He reached in the crevice and grabbed hold of a magazine, pages flapping in Castiel’s face.  “This,” he barked,  “Did you see this?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Dean’s porn</span>
  </em>
  <span>, Castiel thought, instinctually recalling the image of Dean with his hand down his pants. The thought did nothing to stop him from blushing in front of him now.  Cautiously, he reached out to take it and Dean turned his back on him with his face in his hands.  It was then, Castiel realized it wasn’t technically a magazine at all.  It was a catalogue.  Upon giving it a cursory flip-through, it was a women’s underwear catalogue to be specific.  The corner’s of his lips turned down in some vague sense of a question, but Castiel wasn’t sure what to do beyond that.  He didn’t want to dwell on the idea of Dean and Lisa picking out her panties together, not especially now. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Um,” Castiel started, “I don’t—“</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“They’re not Lisa’s,” Dean muttered.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Then who’s—“</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>When Dean turned back around, his face was practically scarlet and the muscles in his jaw were working overtime.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oh.”  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Like I said. Just a thing I like to do sometimes.  My ex girlfriend Rhonda got me into it.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I see.”  Castiel’s eyes roved from Dean’s scarlet face to his groin in milliseconds, but he forced himself to look towards an ugly spot on the carpet instead and bit his tongue.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Go ahead, say whatever you’re gonna say.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A small smirk formed at the corner of Castiel’s mouth.  “I probably shouldn’t.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Dean scoffed.  “Oh, you </span>
  <em>
    <span>shouldn’t</span>
  </em>
  <span>.  Is that right, Mr. </span>
  <em>
    <span>I Want to Bang Multiple Dudes</span>
  </em>
  <span>?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Dean, I—”  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“God, this is just perfect,” interjected Dean.  “Y’know, the last time Lisa and I got together, I told her about this… this </span>
  <em>
    <span>thing</span>
  </em>
  <span> that I like to do sometimes.  She seemed pretty turned off by it, but I let it slide.  I figured, well, Dean, you can just keep it a secret like you always have and it won’t change a goddamn thing.  And then when she dumped me last night I was a little bummed out, sure.  Who wouldn’t be?  Getting rejected like that in front of your friends?  I thought it was because of this!  And I decided on the walk home last night that if she didn’t like it, then I guess that’s just her loss, ain’t it?  But then she wanted to sit down and talk about it like ‘mature adults’ do, and I figure why the fuck not?  What have I got to be ashamed of anyway?  Come to find out, she didn’t dump me because of the fuckin’ panties, she dumped me because of you!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Me?”  Castiel felt like he got the wind knocked out of him.  He knew he’d been rude to her, but ending a potential relationship with someone over their roommate’s shitty behavior seemed melodramatic at best.  “What’d I do?”   </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Don’t act like you dunno, Cas.  For both our sakes, just— Don’t.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>But Castiel was totally at a loss.  “I mean, I didn’t like her, but I never intended to make her uncomfortable,” he said, cluelessly.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“That’s not— </span>
  <em>
    <span>Fuck</span>
  </em>
  <span>.  You really don’t get it, do you?”  Dean groaned and shook his head.  “Cas, I’ve been trying to get you to come out with me since day friggin’ one! I’ve dropped plans to spend time with you, I’ve tried to take care of you, bring you your favorite food, make sure you got some sleep. I’ve held your hair back while you puked. I’ve opened up to you about things I never have before with </span>
  <em>
    <span>anyone</span>
  </em>
  <span>.  I literally got in bed with you!  I’ve only been dropping hints six different ways from Sunday that I’m into you, Cas, and the only reason I said yes to Lisa in the first place was so I wouldn’t make a complete ass out of myself trying to get your attention because I didn’t want to mess up the good thing we had goin’ on, but I guess not even that worked because apparently I still acted like a goddamn idiot.  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“And I knew I didn’t stand a chance with someone as smart as you anyway, but that day you told me you were gay I thought just </span>
  <em>
    <span>maybe</span>
  </em>
  <span>.  And I know, just because you’re gay doesn’t mean you have to like me, but man I was beating myself up over it hoping you’d notice me back.  And then last night you have the nerve to ask me why I don’t like you?  After everything I’ve done to show you I do?  I like you, Cas!  Are you happy?  I more than like you!</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Castiel laughed and it surprised even himself.  Dean looked like he was ready to flee the scene.  “Wait, wait, wait.  Dean, please.  I just— You’re… into me?”   </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I thought it was pretty obvious, yeah!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>All this time.  All this wasted fucking time pining away for his unattainable roommate and he somehow managed to miss all of the obvious signs.  He knew there was no possible way one man needed to undress that many times. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“God, I’m so fucking stupid,” Castiel muttered.  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Y’know, even if you aren’t into me, I never thought you’d be the kind of guy to judge me for something like this, not after all the real crap we’ve shared with each other.  And now here you are judging me for it too!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Dean</span>
  </em>
  <span>.  Let me speak.”  Dean’s conflicted expression settled into a cautious glower as Castiel approached him and gently laid a hand upon his shoulder.  “I’ve had an embarrassingly large crush on you since the day you came walking through that door, I just never dreamed you’d be into someone like me so I did my best to keep it to myself.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Dean tried to hide his surprise with an awkward swallow and balked as if that statement made the least sense out of any he’d ever heard.  “Why wouldn’t I be into you?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I was under the assumption you were straight.  All the girls you talked about…  I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’m bi.  You could’ve just asked me.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I realize that now.  I should have.  But I assure you, Dean, I’m not judging you for the panties. I actually, um,” he paused, trying to find the right word, “I actually think it’s hot.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Dean huffed.  “You don’t have to say that, Cas.  I know it’s weird.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It’s not weird,” Castiel protested, “And I’m not just saying it.  I’ve, um, thought about it.  Before.  You, I mean.  I didn’t know then, but I’ve thought about you wearing panties before while I—”  He stopped before he somehow made Dean feel like he was sharing a room with a pervert, but Dean didn’t seem bothered in the slightest.  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You’ve thought about me?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yes,” Castiel breathed, “At the risk of making myself seem mentally unhinged, I think I’ve lost count of how many times I’ve thought about you.  You can be very distracting, Dean.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Dean snorted and bashfully scratched at the back of his neck.  “I’ve thought about you too,” he admitted with a shy, crooked smile.  It was endearing in a way that the typically cocky, self-assured Dean was not and it was then that Castiel decided to take the leap.  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Placing a hand to the side of Dean’s face, Dean subconsciously leaned into the touch.  The apples of his cheeks were still flushed, yet they somehow deepened as Castiel leaned in close.  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Castiel dragged his thumb across Dean’s pliant, parted lips as Dean watched him through heavy eyes.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’m going to kiss you now,” he murmured.  With a hard gulp, Dean wordlessly nodded along.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And then Castiel closed the gap and kissed him with little preamble or indecision.  It was soft, tentative, but it was so simple that Castiel couldn’t figure out for the life of him why he’d never tried to before now.  He really was an idiot.  He swept his tongue against the seam of Dean’s mouth and Dean melted under the touch, bringing his warm hands to settle on Castiel’s bare hips, kneading him closer.  The embers simmering in his groin were being poked to life.  Dean opened his mouth readily, like he’d been waiting for it, and brushed his tongue over Castiel’s wantonly.  He chased him for more, even when Castiel broke it. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Fuck,”</span>
  </em>
  <span> Dean breathed against his lips.  “Been dyin’ to do that for months.”  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Me too.”  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The admission made Castiel feel weak at the knees and Dean’s eyes fluttered closed out of some vague sense of self-preservation.  He brought his hand up to Castiel’s to keep it pressed to the side of his face and softly kissed his wrist.  Knocking their foreheads together, he quietly asked,  “What were they like?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“The panties or ...?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Either.  Both.  Just talk to me, man.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Suddenly, Castiel found himself recalling the way he’d imagined Dean not so long ago, spread out for him, and he exhaled hard.  “They were the pink ones,” he said, “Satin.  With lace trim and a bow.”  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Dean’s eyes peaked open then, following the undulation of Castiel’s throat as he forced himself to swallow.  The steady heat building between them all this time was smoldering now.   </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“They could barely hold all of you in,”  he warbled.  He could tell by the way Dean was breathing he was already getting hard.  Castiel wasn’t much further behind.  “I sucked you through them.  They were soaked.”  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Dean whimpered softly under his breath, blunt nails grazing the skin of Castiel’s hip in white lines.  “What if I told you I’m wearin’ those ones right now?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Castiel angled his chin in provocation, daring to rub his open palm against Dean’s bulge.  He didn’t even need to think about what he’d do.  “I’d tell you to prove it,” he dared.  The thrill that coursed through him at the contact made him only that much harder and Dean’s cock twitched under his hand.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Instantly, Dean’s grip on his hips tightened.  With both hands, he tugged them closer by the belt loops, pressing them together at the groin, and captured Castiel’s lips in a searing kiss.  He blindly walked Castiel backwards towards his bed and they collapsed down on it together, knocking the folded laundry to the floor in a mounded heap.  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You’re picking... that up... later,” Castiel muttered between kisses and Dean hummed his agreement, but it only made Dean kiss him more adamantly just to shut him up.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Castiel laid out under him as Dean kissed his lips, his jaw, his neck, and he kissed back just as fiercely, fingers finding their way into Dean’s hair again as he exposed his throat for Dean’s mouth.  Dean kissed down his throat and over his chest and stomach, edging his way down to the strip of hair below Castiel’s navel.  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Dean kissed like he was starving and Castiel was the thing he’d been craving for months.  His lips and tongue lingered when he came to the hem of Castiel’s jeans.  “God, Cas,” he rasped, coming up for a steadying breath, “I want to fuck you so bad right now.”  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“So do it already.”  Castiel reached between them to undo his fly. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Ugh, fuck, should we talk about this?”  Castiel groaned deep in his chest at the loss of Dean’s mouth, thrusting his hips up into Dean’s.    “Are we goin’ too fast?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Dean</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”  Castiel had never rolled his eyes harder in his life.  “We’ve been torturing each other for months.  We share a room!  If that’s too fast, I don’t want to do slow.”  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>An unexpected laugh burst out of Dean then and he grinned down at him.  “You’re a real romantic, huh?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I will be when you take off your fucking pants,” he countered.  Sliding his jeans and boxers down in one swift motion, Castiel’s heavy cock slapped against his hip as he settled back into the mattress.  Whatever snarky reply Dean had ready died on his tongue when Castiel spit into his palm and took himself in hand.   </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Fuck.</span>
  </em>
  <span>”  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The sight spurred Dean into action.  He backed off the bed and began to haphazardly shed his layers onto the floor faster than Castiel had ever seen before, but when it came down to the pants, he hesitated and Castiel couldn’t help notice.  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I want to see you, Dean.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Eyes never leaving his, Castiel brought his free hand to his lips, sucked two long fingers into his mouth, and led them down to encircle his hole.  He pressed the tip of a finger in and had to bite his lip to contain himself as it slipped in deeper.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Fuck, Cas,” Dean whined, “You look so good like that.”  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He took a few measured breaths before finally letting the zipper down.  His pants hit the floor in seconds and, true to his word, there he was, donning a smooth and silky pair of pink panties.  His cock was straining against them, thin material accentuating every line and curve.  A wet spot was forming near his hip as he watched Castiel work himself open and he couldn’t help palm himself through the panties at the sight.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Shit</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” Castiel gasped.  It was just as hot, if not hotter, in person than in his mind.  He was practically salivating for him.  “I need to suck you off.”  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Dean approached the bed just as enthusiastically as Castiel sprang forward to meet him there.  With open palms, Castiel slid his hands over the silky material and up Dean’s smooth stomach.  He held Dean’s gaze as he leaned in, hot and humid, and he ghosted his lips along Dean’s length.  When he got to the clothed tip, he sucked it into his mouth with a deep moan.  The satin was smooth against his tongue and the dampness rubbed Dean in all the right ways.  He was staring down at Castiel as if in awe, his fingers carding tenderly through his mess of dark hair, despite the growing urgency in his eyes. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sliding the panties down, Dean’s cock sprang free and Castiel ran and his tongue along the length unhindered now, hands goading Dean’s hips to thrust into his mouth as he swallowed around him.  Dean gasped and groaned and his nails scratched along Castiel’s scalp as he held him in place.  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Cas— Cas— Fuck,” he stammered, tugging on Castiel’s hair to get his attention.  If anything, the action made him suck harder, and Dean moaned over his own words.  “Cas, I want to fuck you,” he managed to say,  “Gonna cum right now if you don’t quit it.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Moaning around him, with one last, long suck, Castiel popped off with as little as no words before tugging Dean down onto the bed to join him.  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Easy, tiger,” Dean exhaled.  “I ain’t goin’ anywhere.”  He let out an ‘oof’ and laughed as his head hit his pillow, but Castiel was on a mission now.   Pressing him down into the mattress, he straddled Dean’s lap, collecting their cocks in hand, and stroked them in tandem.  He crushed their lips together in a desperate slide.  The bitter taste on his tongue was intoxicating and Dean moaned softly into his mouth.  Absently, Dean reached to push his panties down his legs, but Castiel stopped him. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Keep them on,” he said, “I like them on you.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Absently nodding, Dean groaned lowly in his throat and let his head fall back against his pillow again.  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Reaching to Dean’s nightstand, Castiel fumbled around to find the small bottle of lube and condoms he knew were in there.  He found the lube fast, but was coming up short when there weren’t any condoms to be found.  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Dean,” he said distractedly, as Dean started rubbing precum over their tips with his fingers.  “Dean, where are your condoms?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Shit.  Musta used the last one,” Dean said, “We don’t have to--”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Castiel shut him up with a needy kiss.  “Oh, we’re going to.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He popped the cap on the lube and squirted too much on his fingers, but he didn’t care.  He reached behind, wiggled two fingers inside himself in an attempt to be thorough, but decided he couldn’t take much more waiting.  He lubed up Dean’s cock with the excess and scooted himself further up into Dean’s lap.  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He wasted no time lining Dean up with his hole and he sank down onto Dean’s cock maddeningly slow.  Inch by tenuous inch.  Sweat was beading up on both their brows and Castiel hissed the more he took.  When he finally felt his ass against the tops of Dean’s thighs, he sat still for a moment, head tilted back, just trying to breathe.  Dean wasn’t much better off.  He stroked over Castiel’s thighs in soothing circles. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Fuck, Cas you’re so tight,” he gasped.  “Dunno how long I’m gonna last.  Feels so good.”  His nails dug half moons into the meat of Castiel’s thighs, indecisive in whether to keep him still for longer or to get him moving.  </span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Castiel started rocking his hips in small, slow circles, as Dean ran his open palms over his ass and along his sides and they kissed through the initial stretch.   </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Castiel built up to a steady pace, taking Dean in deeper and deeper.  His ass slapped relentlessly against Dean’s thighs and it was enough to elicit a moan from deep in his chest when Dean wrapped a tight fist around his cock.  He fucked forward into it, chasing the dueling sensations from either end, as the sweat started dripping down from Dean’s hairline.  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Within minutes, the heat spread down his spine and pooled at the base of his cock.  He could feel his hips jerking erratically out of sync before his mouth fell open on a long, low, desperate moan and a thick white stripe painted itself across Dean’s stomach and chest.  Castiel fucked him through it and Dean couldn’t tear his eyes away from the small surges of cum still gushing out of his cock.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Falling forward on his forearms, his chest flushed and heaving, Castiel sucked Dean’s lower lip between his teeth.  “Cum in me,” he spat.  “Want to feel you cum.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Placing an open palm above Dean’s head, he braced himself against the wall as Dean’s hips bucked up into him nailing his already milked prostate until Dean’s own muscles drew taut.  His hands clutched desperately at Castiel’s hips and he pressed in as deep as he could go, filling him with warmth.  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>When Dean fell back limply against the bed, Castiel collapsed with him.  “Fuck,” he groaned, muscles tightening to keep Dean from slipping out just yet. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Fuck is right,” Dean agreed, breathlessly.  “We could’ve been doing that this whole time if we weren’t so fucking stupid.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Castiel snorted, burrowing his face into the side of Dean’s neck.  With the way Dean was stroking his hair and back, he was ready to fall asleep right on top of him.  His limbs felt like jelly.  He couldn’t remember the last time he felt this good.  As much as he hated to admit it to himself, after all this time, maybe Dean </span>
  <em>
    <span>was</span>
  </em>
  <span> right.  Maybe he well and truly did need to get laid.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Cas, I was wrong,” Dean murmured into his hair, as if reading his mind.  “I owe you an apology.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Mmh, wrong about what?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You’ve definitely had sex before,” Dean said, poking Castiel in the ass cheek.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“As usual, you’re hilarious, Dean.”  Castiel lifted his head just to roll his eyes; Dean was barely containing his shit-eating grin.  “Just don’t tell Charlie yet.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Tell her what?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“This.  How clueless I am.  I don’t think she’d ever let me live it down.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oh.”  Dean did a very poor job at nonchalance.  “About that…”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You didn’t.  How?”  Castiel gaped at him, making to prop himself up, and Dean slipped out then.  They both winced at the sensation, but Castiel’s staring didn’t let up.  “What did you tell her?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Nothin’,” he said with a shrug.  “She was the first person I came out to on campus way back when and you two spend a lot of time together.  I asked her about you not too long after the semester started.  Hate to break it to you, but I think the cat’s been out of the bag for a while now, man.”  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He smiled at Castiel’s oblivious, frowning face, trying pitifully to connect the dots.  “So everyone knew, but me.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Looks like, yeah.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“That’s bullshit.”  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Dean laughed at his pissy face.  “For a smart guy, you can be pretty dense sometimes, huh?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Apparently,” Castiel snarked, but Dean just leaned in and kissed the look right off his face.  “Sorry, again,” he said when they pulled apart, “For last night.  I don’t remember much, but for what it’s worth, I think I told a stranger I had an embarrassing crush on you.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Dean smirked.  “That so?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yes.  I remember because up until that point, I spent much of the evening being incredibly jealous you weren’t there as my date.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Jealous!  You?  No way.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yes way.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Guess that explains why you’re so goddamn grumpy all the time.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Dean laughed when Castiel swatted his arm.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“But, uh, your date, huh?”  Dean scratched his chin, faux-deep in thought.  “I think that could be arranged.  How about you come home with me for Thanksgiving first though,” he said, but his teasing face shifted into something more earnestly unsure when he looked Castiel in the eye.  “If you want to, that is.  I know you said you were gonna stay here and all, but mine’s been hounding me about meeting you for months.  I’ve been wanting to ask you, I just— It doesn’t have to be a big deal.  You don’t have to— Ugh, why did I—”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Castiel kissed him then.  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Just to shut him up.  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He felt his face light up and he might’ve been embarrassed by that a few hours ago, but right now he didn’t care about anything besides the person blushing in front of him.  “I’d like that.  Very much.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Me too,” Dean admitted shyly. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They laid sticky and intertwined like that for so long the dim light faded from the window.  Castiel traced lines between the freckles on Dean’s chest, humming a nonsensical tune under his breath and Dean was breathing softly, nearly falling asleep if his growling stomach weren’t so loud. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What else did I say,” Castiel spoke gently, “Last night, I mean.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Dean chuckled to himself and cracked an eye open.  “Nothing too embarrassing, promise,” he replied.  “But you did call me Molly Ringwald for some reason.  Said you were gonna die alone.  Y’know, just casual, fun drunk stuff.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Castiel blushed, embarrassed for himself anyway.  “Yeah, I guess that makes sense.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Which part of that makes sense, exactly?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Andie chose Blane over Duckie,” he explained with a small shrug.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Ahh, gotcha,” Dean said, sarcastically solemn.  “Well, if it makes you feel better, she was supposed to choose Duckie, but Molly Ringwald thought the other guy was cuter.  Never forgave her for that one.  Guess I’m doing it the right way this time.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Castiel blinked at him and smiled, unsure whether it was cuter that Dean knew trivial facts about 80s rom-coms or what he was implying with it.  “Thank you.  That does make me feel better,” he murmured against Dean’s shoulder, ducking in to plant another kiss there.  “But Molly Ringwald is still a bitch.  There’s nothing wrong with nerds.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Dean grinned down at him, messing up his already messy hair.  “Amen to that... But hey y’know, off the record, are you really into orgies?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Go to sleep, Dean,” he fondly exasperated, “I’ll be here when you wake up.”</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>By the way, the Molly Ringwald thing?  All true.  What a bitch!</p></blockquote></div></div>
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